


Dropping glasses just to hear them break

by Probably_Not_Captain_America



Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: 2cheesy4me, Dark Side Revan - Freeform, F/F, Light Masochism, i love these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 13:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15438195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Probably_Not_Captain_America/pseuds/Probably_Not_Captain_America
Summary: “So, what brought you here?”, she asks me.You, I want to say, but I chase the thought away, even if it is true. I don’t quite know how I ended up here myself.Bastila and Revan are totally gay and I'm not sorry.





	Dropping glasses just to hear them break

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. This is an old work, but I thought I'd upload it anyways. My Revan's name is Halina Jerre, btw. Her character model is the short-brown-hair-pretty-face one. Also, sorry for bad writing, I'm just a sucker for romance:Y Enjoy?

 Suddenly, I see her. I almost start, but really, that would make a terrible impression. She’s just sitting there, back leaned against the cold wall of the freight room, looking at me.

“Don’t you usually sleep in the hospital wing?”, I ask, perhaps too sharply considering the time and the fact that I have just as little business here as she does. She leans her head back and smiles.

“Technically. But I prefer the freight room. Much more space.”

And a better resonance with the Force, but she doesn’t say that. Jedi meditation chambers have an entirely different architecture, but this room’s shape is nowhere near such noble purposes.

“Can’t sleep, either?”, she asks, in her voice that subtle unmistakable tone that still makes me think of ancient powers and lost kingdoms, even without the mask.

I run my hand through my hair and try for the probably two hundredth time to remind myself that I am _not_ talking to Revan. This is Halina.

“Not really”, I answer, “even though yesterday would certainly pose enough of a reason to sleep.”

Yesterday. On Kashyyk, where we found a part of the Star Forge map, the crumbled ruins of the Rakatan empire and a lost Jedi. And yet, even with all these impossible things, all I can think of is _her._ Talking to the Wookiees, listening with rapt attention to the Rakatan hologram, the way she fought with her double-bladed saber. A Sith weapon. Just like mine. I drag my thoughts back to the present.

“So, what brought you here?”, she asks me.

You, I want to say, but I chase the thought away, even if it is true. I don’t quite know how I ended up here myself.

“I was…hungry. Not that the cans are all that good, but you know…”

It’s probably the most miserable excuse I’ve ever given, and I know she noticed. She tilts her head to one side and looks at me. Something is different about her gaze. Boring. Irritating.

It takes me a while to realize that she’s not wearing her visor and I’m looking directly into her eyes.

Acid yellow eyes.

As if she’d noticed my shock, she gets up in one smooth, flowing motion and closes the distance between us with slow, determined steps. She’s taller than me. Not much, but enough to make me back up as she comes closer.

I am about to excuse myself and leave as the door closes behind me with a wave of her hand.

She’s in front of me now, not too close, but not far away enough. I’m still looking into her eyes that seem to glow softly in the dim light of the freight room, these bright yellow eyes that she _shouldn’t have_ , and I feel like a Bantha that’s been hypnotized by a Krayt Dragon. She’s still closing in, and I back away, paralyzed, until I feel the wall behind me.

I’m trapped, by her proximity, her gaze, by _her._

She leans forward, bracing herself with one arm on the wall, a barrier between me and the door that would be easy to dismiss and yet unbreachable.

I swallow hard, and finally bring myself to speak.

“Your eyes. You…you’re a Sith.”

It was supposed to sound like an accusation, like disappointment, like a cue to draw her lightsaber and be held responsible.

Instead, it sounds like the last word of a fool who wouldn’t see the truth and now falls to her inevitable demise.

“Well noticed. But no news for you, I daresay.”

Her voice sounds cold, but something about it is off. _She’s not out for the hunt today_ , I think, she wants to enjoy her prey, play with it until she tears it apart alive. She leans closer, her face now barely a hand’s length away from mine. I can feel her breath ghosting over me, and a cold shudder runs down my spine.

“So you remember everything?”, I say, not braced to lie in the face of death. It has gone on too long, anyway. She deserves the truth.

“Most of it”, she says, her voice like the sweetest venom, “but you’re not seriously trying to tell me you haven’t noticed already, are you?”

She’s right. Her lies, her increasingly aggressive and brutal combat, her Force trail. Everything about her pointed straight into the abyss. I turn my head away.

“No…you’re right. It was a terrible idea, and we should have killed you when we had the chance. We’d expected this. Such a dark soul would never return to the light.”

I try to say it like I mean it. But it had been _me_ who’d been unable to kill her, the Bantha who’d fallen for the Krayt. I look at her again, ready to die upright like the Jedi I never was.

“So what now? Will you kill me? Take revenge on the one who defeated you, and then declare yourself the rightful empress of the galaxy?”

She laughs, a terrible, beautiful sound that spells doom as much as it conveys her twisted amusement, and her eyes gleam.

“Kill you? Why, no, that was never my intention.” Her eyes narrow dangerously. “I’ve _seen_ the way you look at me. How you react when our hands brush as if by coincidence, how you shudder when I bend the Force to my will. _You want me._ You want to throw yourself at my feet, want my hands around your throat and my breath in your hair…”

All the time while she speaks, she looks at me with barely concealed lust in her eyes, her voice brimming with an undertone that’s dangerous and attractive at the same time. Her hand touches my waist, and I inhale sharply as it wanders higher, stops at my neck.

  _I’m doomed_ , I think, just before her weight pins me to the wall and her lips meet mine.

I moan, a pathetic, throaty sound evident of years of held-back desires, pull my arms up and fist my hands into her hair, pull her closer, deepen the kiss.

I feel her smirk, and her lithe body presses up against mine, her one hand closing ever so softly around my neck, as the other strokes down my back. I shudder, open my mouth on instinct, and she presses her advantage and lets her tongue slide into my mouth.

I cling to her, kiss her back, let my breath come out in small gasps. _This is so wrong,_ I think _, I’m a Jedi, she’s fallen to the dark side, don’t let her use you like this…_

But my thoughts are stopped when I feel her hand reach my legs, her fingers brushing over the inside of my thighs, almost weightless.

She pulls back, bracing herself against the wall, and lets me breathe, looking at me like I’m a particularly entertaining prey.

Which I am, really.

After a few ragged breaths, my conscious mind returns, and I abruptly let go of her, disgusted at the ease with which I gave in to her.

“Halina”, I say, and it sounds more like a plead than an accusation, “this is _wrong_ , I shouldn’t be doing this. I should subdue you on the spot and leave you to the Jedi Council’s judgment and…” I falter. Why? “…and you should be brought to justice for your crimes.”

She looks amused, like her prey had suddenly remembered it could struggle. She leans in and when she speaks, I feel her lips brushing over my ear. I try my best not to react.

“First”, she says, and I _can’t help reacting_ , shudder, try to pull away but she holds me down, “the name is _Revan_. _Lord Revan._ ”

I never wanted to hear her say that name again, and yet I’ve whispered it countless times myself, imagined screaming it with her lips on my neck, her nails on my skin, her fingers between my thighs…

“And second”, she continues, her voice too close and too condescending, “I have lied enough to know a lie when I see one. You want me. I know why you couldn’t kill me back then, why you ignore all the signs now. And shall I tell you a little secret?”

The hand that’s been holding my arm slides lower, grasps my wrist.

“I want you, too.”

I close my eyes, determined not to let her know what that statement _does to me,_ but I know it’s pointless. She’s holding both my wrists in one of her slender, strong hands now, pins them above my head, and I choose not to struggle, like a puppet with its strings cut, even though I know what I really want.

Her. Halina. Revan. Whatever she chooses to call herself.

She turns her face back towards me, and I see triumph in her grin. But there’s something else, an emotion I can’t quite place. Perhaps it’s affection. Perhaps it’s bloodlust. I don’t know.

Her eyes seem to glow brighter now, and I can see small black veins crisscrossing her marble-white face. I like it, the feral look suits her.

Slowly, I exhale and meet her gaze, still determined to die on my feet, if somewhat different than before.

My look betrays my heart, gives her all she needs to know. Her grin broadens, and her teeth seem far too pointy and sharp as they sink into my neck, not quite breaking the skin but enough to make me _feel_ her. She shoves a leg between mine, holds me to the wall more forcefully than before, and I can’t keep back a moan as her tongue strokes over my frantic pulse. I turn my head to allow her access, press against her warm body with my own. Her teeth slide along my neck, ungentle but not painful, and I realize that I’m baring my throat for a murderer and _begging her to touch it._

Her other hand is back at my thigh, fighting its way beneath my tunic, and the feeling of her cold hand on my bare skin is overwhelming. Almost instinctively, I lean into her touch, and without letting my wrists go, she pushes up my tunic until my chest is exposed to her, my nipples embarrassingly hard already.

 _I shouldn’t let her do this_ , I think _, I should struggle,_ but I’ve waited too long to leave any traces of dignity remaining when her mouth moves away from my neck and focuses on a nipple instead, and I just give up trying to hold my voice back.

“ _Hrnghh…ah…Halina…”_

And suddenly she’s _biting_ , and my muffled scream is part pain and shock and part unbridled pleasure.

I know what she wants to hear.

“Haaahh… _Revan_.”

She pulls her head back and looks at me.

“Very good”, she mocks, and all of a sudden I become aware of just how vulnerable a position I’m in. If she wanted to skewer my heart with her lightsaber, she could, and I would probably beg her to do it slowly.

She releases my hands, and again I curl my fingers in her unruly hair, pull her down, sink my tongue between her lips. She kisses me back, and her taste floods me, like blood and venom and power. She grabs my hair in return, pulling sharply, and I moan in pleasure at the painful tug, while her other hand starts to fidget with my breeches.

Her long, powerful fingers slide beneath the waistband, further back, and unceremoniously grab my behind, digging into the tender skin and leaving marks.

I pull my arms back over her shoulders and break the kiss to look at her marble face when I let my hands slide down over her flat chest.

She grins, surprised perhaps but not averse, and pulls her hand back out of my breeches to let it rest on mine, push it down. I open her tunic, let it fall over her shoulders until her breasts are exposed, I kiss her neck as I touch her angular body.

She lets her eyelids flutter shut, bites her lower lip as if to suppress a groan, and I decide to press my advantage a little when I let my palms rest on her breasts.

“Interesting, just how easily Lord Revan succumbs to my touch…”, I remark not without amusement, and her half-hearted glare tells me that I haven’t been the only one wanting this. I caress her nipples, and her eyes fall closed again, her mouth half open, her breath shallow.

Suddenly, she grabs my arms, throws me back into the wall with painful force, her eyes gleaming acid yellow and narrowed to dangerous slits.

“You’ll regret that”, she whispers into my ear, sounding only half amused, her tone evidence of playing with fire.

She pins me to the wall again, not keeping  her raw muscular strength in check this time, and I’m not convinced I’d be able to shake her off, even if I wanted to,  despite the fact that she’s only using one hand to hold my wrists in place.

Her other hand is at my waist again, at my thigh, and I suck in a sharp breath as her fingers slide between my legs.

She grins, lets her teeth scratch down my neck again, sure to leave a mark, pulls my breeches down just enough to touch me, and I let out a ragged cry of _oh, Force, Revan_. She bites down sharply to remind me of her earlier threat and sinks two of her fingers into me.

She turns to look at me, a taunting sneer on her face but her eyes betraying her pleasure.

“You’re _wet_ ”, she says, and the statement is enough to make me look away in shame.

Her lips touch my ear as she humiliates me further, calling me pathetic and a shameless slut, how she can see in my eyes what I want her to do to me. She _knows_ that her voice ravages me, that this turns her on just as much as me, that she craves to hear my moans, that she might be as much at my mercy as I am at hers.

She moves her hand, curls her fingers, rubs her palm against my clit, sucks on my neck, and I barely notice how I call her name, how I press up against her, the terrible pathetic _ease_ with which I give in to her.

And then I’m _there,_ the overwhelming pleasure ripping through me, and when I can’t suppress my scream she does it for me, kisses me harshly to muffle the sound, and _rams her fingers inside me_ , and all I can do is wait until my conscious mind returns from the daze of lust.

The orgasm leaves me trembling, breathless, eyes closed and mouth open, and for a moment I don’t dare look at her, can’t take the humiliation ( _pleasure)_ of having come at her hands quite yet.

When my voice returns, I say “That was… _amazing.”_ _No, damn it, what am I saying?_ I should fix my clothes, shove her away, warn the others, contact the Jedi Council, whatever.

Instead, I pull her down into a slow, languid kiss and look into her glowing eyes. Mind stilly hazy with lust, I say what I think even if higher logic demands I keep it silent, just for how I should by no means be thinking it.

 _“I want you._ Your body, your mind, your raw power. Your _love_. _I love you_ , Revan, more than any Jedi, any woman ever should. Let me be your apprentice, your servant, your _own,_ whatever you want me to be. I already belong to you, have belonged to you with all my being ever since that moment on the Harbinger’s bridge, where I stopped being a Jedi. Or maybe I never was one, who cares, it matters not.

 _You are my destiny_ , Lord Revan, and where you lead me, I shall follow.”

The words come easily, despite their meaningful weight on my tongue, because, oh, how often have I imagined saying them, kneeling in front of her with her cold gaze on me.

And Revan s _miles,_ not mockingly or cruel, but in satisfaction. She places her hand on my cheek, almost lovingly, but not without an undercurrent of possessiveness.

“You’re brave to swear your allegiance to me”, she says, “but you’re right. It never could have gone any other way. You belong to me, you always have, not since the battle on the Harbinger, but for all of the Force’s existence. We were destined to meet, Bastila.”

It’s the first time she’s said my name tonight, and it sends an emotion through me I can’t quite place, it feels like being chosen by the gods.

And then Revan whispers, with no malicious undertone this time,

“I love you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> You made it! I know this is probably about as riveting as watching two OCs make out, but still. The world need more DS!fem!Revan/Bastila fics. Trust me. Def wanna write more for them!  
> Song for this (and the pairng in general): Glory and Gore by Lorde


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